


Going Up

by Bittersweet_in_Boston



Series: Going Up [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: A lot of kissing, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Blow Job, Brooklyn forever, Deadly quads, Elevator Sex, Finance manager Bucky Barnes, Fluff and Smut, Hot bike messenger Steve Rogers, Kissing, M/M, Might as well die happy, Modern Bucky Barnes, Modern Steve Rogers, Mystery tattoo, Three cheers for bike shorts, Trapped In Elevator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:55:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24372385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bittersweet_in_Boston/pseuds/Bittersweet_in_Boston
Summary: “Hey, Steve!” Bucky says with what he hopes is a normal level of enthusiasm and not one that makes him sound like a stalker or a serial killer. “Got a delivery for Tony today?”Steve looks at him and turns on that thousand-watt smile as he scans Bucky up and down. His eyes are a shade of deep blue - cobalt, maybe? - and they’re so beautiful that, frankly, they make Bucky a little angry. His jaw tightens under Steve’s stare.“Yep,” Steve says, eyes and teeth twinkling. Infuriating. “Just a few folders and a big report printout today.” He pats his messenger bag.Bucky is about to say something inane like “Great!” or “Cool” or something when...KATHUNKThe elevator car comes to a sudden and complete stop somewhere around the twenty-fourth floor.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Going Up [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1944616
Comments: 25
Kudos: 388





	Going Up

“Hey, can you hold the elevator please?” Bucky Barnes calls. He’s walking fast across the atrium of his midtown office building, trying to hurry but not spill the coffee to-go tray he’s carrying. It’s his turn today to get the mid-morning caffeine order for his finance colleagues and he wants to get back to his office on the fiftieth floor before the hot drinks go cold.

The person in the elevator obligingly leans over and hits the OPEN DOOR button so Bucky doesn’t even have to attempt to stick his leg between the doors to keep them open. He skids into the car and looks at the back wall as he says, “Thanks!” in that faux-cheerful voice you use for strangers and then turns his head to see the one other occupant as the doors shut.

 _Oh_.

It’s Steve, the brain-meltingly gorgeous bike messenger who delivers files and packages to Bucky’s boss a couple times a week. He looks to be about Bucky’s age, late twenties. He’s at least a few inches taller than Bucky, with dirty blond hair that flops over his forehead and the wiry muscles and ridiculous thighs of an avid road biker. The way he fills out his bike shorts is to die for and Bucky would be lying if he told you that he (and his right hand) don’t have an ongoing obsession with that ass.

Steve always gives Bucky a thousand-watt smile and winks at him when he passes Bucky’s desk on the way out, and it’s truly the only good thing about Bucky’s open-concept office. Bucky has fantasized many times about chatting him up and getting his number, but he always nopes out at the last minute, seeing Steve’s sparkling eyes and then getting tongue-tied and blushing and turning back to his monitor like he’s got a Very Important Spreadsheet to deal with. _Ugh_.

So this morning in the elevator with Steve, Bucky’s brain shorts out as the elevator starts its ascent. He’s never been alone with Steve before and it’s like one of his late-night jackoff sessions has manifested into real life. He can feel the blood rushing to his face. The silence feels endless, though in reality it’s only been a few seconds, and he forces himself to calm down and act like a polite functioning human being.

“Hey, Steve!” Bucky says with what he hopes is a normal level of enthusiasm and not one that makes him sound like a stalker or a serial killer. He looks at the elevator buttons - only 50 is lit up - and says, “Got a delivery for Tony today?”

Steve looks at him and turns on that thousand-watt smile as he scans Bucky up and down. His eyes are a shade of deep blue - cobalt, maybe? - and they’re so beautiful that, frankly, they make Bucky a little angry. His jaw tightens under Steve’s stare.

“Yep,” Steve says, eyes and teeth twinkling. _Infuriating_. “Just a few folders and a big report printout today.” He pats his messenger bag.

Bucky is about to say something inane like “Great!” or “Cool” or something when...

_KATHUNK_

The elevator car comes to a sudden and complete stop somewhere around the twenty-fourth floor. Bucky jolts and loses his balance, instinctively reaching out to the back railing to avoid falling and dropping the coffee tray. His hand grabs the railing and touches Steve’s. Ordinarily this would be thrilling but right now Bucky is terrified so it doesn’t register.

Before either one of them can react, the lights in the car go out and the red emergency light comes on, casting a weird glow over everything.

Bucky grips the railing hard and tries to keep himself from panicking. He’s not claustrophobic _per se_ but he’s never had a thing for small dark places and he’s never been stuck in an elevator before. The darkened car goes a bit blurry and Bucky feels his breath come faster despite his efforts to slow it down. He closes his eyes.

A strong warm hand lands gently on his shoulder and Bucky turns his head in surprise.

“It’s OK. It’ll be OK,” Steve says and looks intently at Bucky with a small smile as if he’s trying to radiate calm.

“How do you know?” Bucky cries, his voice cracking a bit on the last word. _Shit_.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve been stuck on an elevator,” Steve replies. He looks thoughtful. “Although it is the first time I’ve gotten stuck on an elevator alone with such a gorg...” He stops himself and then goes on. “I mean, on an elevator alone with just one person.”

Bucky gets the gist of what he was about to say and smiles and blushes. Steve’s been winking at him for months now...maybe Bucky isn’t the only one of them with (ahem) _interesting_ thoughts.

Steve’s cheeks look a little darker in the strange light as well. He grins bashfully and looks down at his feet and back at Bucky.

“James...it’s James, right?”

Bucky nods. “Yeah,” he says. “But my...my real friends call me Bucky.”

“OK then...Bucky,” says Steve, a little cheeky. He slides his hand down Bucky’s shoulder and lays his hand over Bucky’s on the railing for a long moment. Yeah, Bucky’s _definitely_ not the only one with the interesting thoughts.

Bucky pulls his phone out of his pocket with his other hand and unlocks it. Steve reaches into his bag for his.

“No service,” Steve says ruefully, looking at the cracked screen of his Samsung. “And no WiFi.”

“Same here,” says Bucky in the glow of his iPhone. He starts to feel panicky again.

“Cell and internet service must be down along with the power,” Steve says matter-of-factly. He looks sympathetically at Bucky. “Why don’t you sit down, Bucky, and I’ll see if I can get anyone on the emergency intercom.” 

Bucky follows this suggestion, pocketing his phone and carefully sinking to the floor and sliding the coffee tray into the other corner against the walls.

“Hello? Hello?” Steve yells into the speaker while pushing the red EMERGENCY button. “This is elevator 69, we’re stuck between 24 and 25.”

There’s silence on the other end and then the line crackles loudly for maybe twenty seconds as someone attempts to communicate with them. Bucky and Steve can just make out the words “power outage...all over area...no time estimate for restor—...stand by.” And then the intercom goes dead.

Steve turns to Bucky and gives him a rueful smile.

“Well,” he says. “We could be here a while.” Steve drops his bag against the wall, sits down right next to Bucky and stretches out his infuriatingly long legs. He’s wearing a long-sleeve overshirt over a tank top and his bike shorts, and his blondish leg hairs accentuate the differentiated muscles on his calves and just above his knees. Bucky stares at those legs and swallows. Those quads might be the death of him.

“So, Steve,” he says, turning to look Steve in the face. “What do you do when you’re not bike messengering?” _Oh god, smooth opening, Barnes_ , he agonizes inside his head.

Steve grins. “Well, I did a tour in the military right out of high school,” he replies. “Now I’m in school full-time and do this gig during my off-hours to make some extra money.”

“What are you studying?” Bucky asks, interested. The edge of a tattoo - maybe some kind of bird wing? - peeks out from the top of Steve’s tank top and Bucky tries not to stare.

“Art and art therapy,” Steve answers.

“That’s so cool!” Bucky says. “What kind of art do you do?”

“Mostly oils,” says Steve. “But I also do watercolor when I’m in the mood.” He looks at Bucky’s face critically. “You’d be a good candidate for watercolors, especially with those eyes.”

Bucky’s lips quirk up as he drops his head and shakes it a bit. “Haha,” he says. No really, he says “haha” instead of laughing and immediately wants to melt through the floor.

 _C’mon, asshole, pull it together,_ Bucky thinks to himself savagely, but it’s hard. Steve’s easy to talk to and his hair and his ridiculous legs and his dumb stupid-ass gorgeous face are very distracting. On the plus side, Bucky’s embarrassed enough right now that he’s no longer worried about dying in a fiery elevator crash. 

“No really,” Steve insists. “I’d love to paint you sometime, if you’re okay with that. You’d be an amazing subject.”

Bucky’s heart skips a beat.

“Uh, yeah, that’d be incredible,” he says, trying to sound casually enthusiastic but in all honesty sounding more like some idiot who just won the lottery. Holy Christ on a popsicle stick, he wishes he were cooler and had better game.

Steve grins and shoulder-checks Bucky. “Excellent,” he says. Then without hesitation he goes on. “So Bucky, what do you do when you’re not finance managering?”

“I, uh, I like to cook and I just started baking,” Bucky says, feeling his cheeks go warm. “I go to the gym a lot. And I...uh...I love writing. I just started taking a creative writing course at night. Brooklyn College.”

“Brooklyn, huh,” says Steve, teasing.

“Yeah, Brooklyn, punk,” Bucky says in return, his accent intensifying. “I live in Greenpoint. Brooklyn forever.”

Steve chuckles and shoulder-checks Bucky again. This time he doesn’t pull back, and Bucky can feel the heat of his arm through his dress shirt. His heart beats a little faster. _Ugh_.

“I’m kidding, Buck,” Steve says. “Brooklyn born and bred over here, I live near Prospect Park.” Then he leans in closer to whisper in Bucky’s ear, “I’d love to read some of your writing sometime.”

No one has ever called Bucky “Buck” before, not even his family and closest friends. He likes it. And feeling Steve’s warm breath next to his ear...Bucky’s gut seems to give a little hiccup and seize up.

Bucky’s about to say “Really?” when elevator lurches a little in the shaft. Bucky doesn’t scream but he does instinctively turn and curl up against Steve, shuddering and burying his face into Steve’s shoulder. He feels strong arms go around him and steadying pressure on the top of his head as Steve draws him close.

“It’s OK, Buck,” Steve murmurs. “I’ve got ya. I’m here.”

He kisses into Bucky’s hair, gentle and sweet. Bucky feels a warm sensation at the base of his crotch that makes his cock twitch and rises through his torso to lodge just below his ribcage. After a minute strong fingers gently caress his jaw. He lifts his head to see Steve staring at him, pupils blown, chest heaving.

“Can I?” Steve whispers, his mouth inches from Bucky’s, his breath hot on Bucky’s face.

Bucky nods, chest tight, speechless with wanting. _Might as well die happy_. Steve leans forward and slots their mouths together.

Steve’s lips are strong and so, so soft. At first his kisses are brief and sweet, sipping at Bucky’s mouth as he moves his hand to cradle the base of Bucky’s skull.

But soon the kisses lengthen and Bucky feels the very tip of a tongue flick at his bottom lip. He moans softly, lips parting for that tongue. He feels Steve’s brief smile against his mouth and that strong hand tip his head back so Steve can get even better access. Steve’s mouth demands that Bucky open up for him, and Bucky is happy to comply.

Bucky’s had some good kisses in his time but never anything like this. Steve tastes of coffee and spearmint gum, and he kisses Bucky like he’s trying to drink him in, like he’s trying to memorize every detail of his mouth. As he runs his tongue over Bucky’s top teeth, Bucky moans again, louder.

This seems to spur Steve into action. Never breaking the kiss, Steve manhandles Bucky onto his back, propped up against the back wall of the elevator, and quickly straddles him.

“Always wanted to do this,” Steve hisses urgently, licking the corner of Bucky’s mouth and kissing gently into the same spot. “Wanted to bend you over your desk, kiss you breathless...”

“Me too,” Bucky sighs into Steve’s lips, their breath mingling. “Dreamed about you taking me...oh god your fucking bike shorts...”

Steve’s eyes darken and his mouth latches back onto Bucky’s, his big hands cupping Bucky’s face to hold him where he wants him.

Bucky feels like he’s being taken apart, in the best possible way. He reaches up and rakes his fingers through the fine short hairs at the back of Steve’s neck, scratching his short nails against his scalp and delighting in the way it makes Steve shiver. Steve’s scent, musky and spicy mixed with clean sweat, surrounds him and the heat between their bodies increases.

As the kisses deepen and get more ravenous, Bucky involuntarily thrusts his hips upward. His achingly hard cock grinds against Steve’s erection in his bike shorts and Steve breaks the kiss and groans, tipping his head back. He’s the most beautiful thing Bucky has ever seen.

“Hold on,” Steve gasps, stealing a glance into the far upper corner of the elevator car. Quick as a wink he dives into his messenger bag and comes out with a roll of black bike tape. He tears off a piece and holds it up in front of Bucky’s face. Bucky’s glazed eyes focus on the tape with some difficulty and his breath comes hard and frantic. Bike tape? What the fuck...?

“Security camera’s probably not working anyway right now,” Steve whispers, and leans in to fasten his lips onto Bucky’s red, shiny, kiss-bitten mouth. “But just in case...we don’t need an audience.” His lips quirk up in a lopsided smile.

Steve springs up and stands on the far railing to apply the tape to the camera lens. Bucky can only watch in a daze. Then he jumps down and comes back to straddle Bucky again. He leans in to lick across Bucky’s mouth in a filthy kiss, grinding their hard dicks together.

After a minute, Steve reaches down to press his hand against Bucky’s lower abdomen and fingers his belt buckle.

“Can I,” Steve murmurs again into Bucky’s mouth, and again Bucky can only nod dumbly. His brain is mush and he’s lightheaded, feeling as if all the blood in his body has pooled in his crotch. Which it has.

Steve’s tongue swipes quickly across Bucky’s lips and then his head dips lower. He moves down and scrambles to undo Bucky’s trousers and pull them and his boxer briefs down below his knees, exposing Bucky’s cock, flushed and leaking pre-come.

Steve looks at it for a few seconds, then back at Bucky’s face.

“So beautiful, Buck,” he says, drawing his fingers softly down Bucky’s length and smiling as Bucky gasps and his dick twitches.

“Oh god, Steve,” Bucky moans, his heels digging into the elevator floor, his hips thrusting upward. “Please, Steve, _please_.”

“Ssshh, Buck, it’s OK,” says Steve, his face now inches from Bucky’s cock. “I got ya.” He licks a broad stripe from the base of Bucky’s cock to the tip, his tongue licking around the glans and over the crown. The tip of his tongue dips, gentle but firm, into Bucky’s slit several times before circling the crown once more. Steve grabs the base and in one fluid movement takes Bucky’s entire cock until it hits the back of his throat, pausing for a second before beginning to bob up and down.

Bucky splays out on the floor of the elevator, nearly out of his mind with pleasure. The feeling of warm, wet suction against his shaft, a hot tongue swirling around his crown, combined with the sight of Steve’s beautiful mouth wrapped around him, sucking him down - it’s all intoxicating. He’s no longer worried about the elevator crashing and even the brief thought that it might start up again and they could be discovered like this only fuels his excitement.

After a few minutes Bucky feels the long, strong fingers of Steve’s other hand caressing his balls.

“Come for me, Buck,” Steve growls. “Come down my throat, wanna taste you...” Steve speeds up his pace and his forefinger reaches under to massage Bucky’s taint and circle his asshole.

Even the faintest touch to that sensitive spot is enough to set Bucky off.

“Oh god, Steve,” he moans. “Oh _god_...” The warmth starts in his gut and he feels it surging from his balls and pulsing through his length and...and...

Bucky’s vision greys out as all his muscles tense and he shoots spurts of come into Steve’s mouth. There is nothing else, no elevator, no body, just sensation.

Steve swallows it all down avidly and licks every extra drop off Bucky’s slit as Bucky gasps with overstimulation. His vision clears and he looks down to see Steve lay a gentle kiss on the head of his dick and smile up at him. That image - so beautiful, so _hot_ \- burns into his mind and his heart turns over in his side.

Steve moves back up Bucky’s body to lay sweet, drugging kisses on his mouth, making sure that Bucky can taste himself on Steve’s tongue. Bucky feels like he’s floating, deliciously fucked out. Steve’s cock is hard against his thigh and he slides his hand down Steve’s back to cup his perfect ass and grind Steve’s erection more firmly against his leg. Steve groans.

Another honey-sweet kiss, and Bucky whispers, “Your turn” against Steve’s hot mouth. He’s about to roll Steve over and pull down his bike shorts to return the favor...

...when the lights flicker back on in the elevator and it resumes its upward trajectory.

Steve and Bucky startle and stand up. Bucky quickly pulls up his pants and buckles his belt, smoothing down his clothes and hair and picking up the coffee tray. Steve buttons his overshirt over his raging hard-on and slings his messenger bag back over his shoulder, fiddling with something inside the bag.

Bucky looks down at Steve’s crotch and back up at his face.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” he says softly. “I really wanted...”

“I know, me too,” Steve cuts him off, grinning. In the five seconds they have before they reach the fiftieth floor, Steve leans over to give Bucky a sweet but scorching kiss. Bucky feels soft lips on his and a hand slip something into his front trouser pocket.

_DING_

In the instant before the door opens, Steve pulls back and gives Bucky a wink.

The doors open and Bucky steps out of the elevator into a knot of people. The entire finance group crowds around him, chattering, and brings him back to their work area. Bucky’s head is still in the clouds so he only hears snatches of their remarks. (“Oh man, are you OK?” “James, we were so worried!” “Were you scared?” “Holy shit, buddy...”)

Bucky tries to give coherent answers and hands the coffees to his caffeine group, managing to stutter out, “S-sorry they’re lukewarm, guys...”

But his brain keeps cycling back to the red light of the elevator, a pair of soft but strong lips fastened onto his, that feeling of floating after one of the best blowjobs of his life. Out of the corner of his eye he sees a tall blond head stride back from Tony’s office toward the elevators.

“Hey guys,” he says to his colleagues. “Gotta hit the head,” and he excuses himself. The men’s room is on the other side of the elevator bank, but there’s no Steve in either place.

Bucky bites down his disappointment and enters a bathroom stall. As he unbuckles his pants he remembers those last seconds on the elevator. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a business card.

On one side is the printed contact info for Steve’s messenger company. On the other side is scrawled a 718 mobile number. Bucky’s mouth slowly spreads into a wide grin and he pulls out his phone.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [ Deisderium](/users/%5BDeisderium%5D/) for the prompt on this one - I’d bookmarked their “elevator music” tweet from February, found it again this weekend, and...well, here we are. ;-)


End file.
